


no halo

by daydoodles



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Self-Hatred, Songfic, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/pseuds/daydoodles
Summary: So I didn't show up to your funeral but I showed up to your house, and I didn't move a muscle; I was quiet as a mouse. And I swore I saw you in there, but I was looking at myself.





	no halo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfabreath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfabreath/gifts).



> Well I reblogged [this post](http://irlkent.tumblr.com/post/167686870989/send-me-a-character-andor-pairing) again because it was a fun challenge last time, and I got prompted with Kent/Holster! I was excited because I love them even though I've never written them, but then [this](https://youtu.be/NqowVWu_4f0) is the song that came up on my shuffle so now I'm just sorry.
> 
> This is posted [on tumblr](http://irlkent.tumblr.com/post/167690578804/holsterkent-in-honor-of-the-fic-i-sent-you) too.

Kent should have known this would happen.

He couldn’t save Jack all those years ago, so honestly, why did he think this time would be different?

It’s a familiar sensation, but it’s sharper this time. The Jack that Kent had known died on that bathroom floor when they were seventeen, but at least a version of Jack still existed. This is different. More complete. The only version of Adam that exists now is currently in a morgue getting himself stitched back together in a feeble attempt to make him look more like he used to. Like he’s supposed to.

But then again, Kent figures there’s no right way to look dead. That’s probably why the mortician works so hard to make corpses look like the people they once were.

He steps up to the mirror, straightens his tie. He’d hated the flight here to Buffalo; it was only four hours, but it felt like four lifetimes. He’d spent the whole way hating himself more than usual, since Adam had wanted Kent’s first time in Buffalo to be perfect, to introduce Kent to his parents - and Kent’s met his parents, now, but Adam wasn’t there to do the introductions and with him gone Kent feels disconnected from this place. There’s nothing to anchor him here, nothing to hold onto, except a beautiful boy that’s no longer his to hold. No longer anyone’s to hold, actually, but that’s not a comforting revelation.

Kent knows that Adam’s old teammates will be there; and Kent doesn’t know them that well besides Justin, who he really doesn’t want to face right now, and Jack, who he hasn’t wanted to face in years. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing his own resentment reflected back at him on their faces. He’s had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

The thing is, everyone keeps telling him it’s not his fault, but that’s a lie. He can see it on their faces. Yeah, he’d been driving the car when a drunk driver t-boned them, slamming right through Adam’s door, but he couldn’t have done anything to help after since he was unconscious himself. When he woke up in the hospital, Adam was already gone, announced dead on arrival. So logically, it was out of his hands. But grieving hearts need someone to blame, and Kent was the last person to see Adam breathing. He’s an easy target.

And in a weird way, Kent agrees with them. If he had just paid more attention, if he’d just seen the car a few seconds sooner, if he’d been the one in the passenger seat instead of Adam, everything would be different. It could have gone a million other ways, but it didn’t. Kent didn’t do anything to change it. He couldn’t have, not really, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t. In the end, that’s all that matters.

Kent fusses with his hair for about three seconds before deciding he doesn’t give a shit, and heads out of his hotel room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He gets an Uber, stands on the curb while he waits for the driver to find him. He’d typed in the address to the funeral home, but when he climbs into the car he asks the driver to go somewhere else. She doesn’t ask why, which Kent is thankful for.

When he steps into the Birkholtz’s driveway, he feels a little like he’s intruding, but also a little like he might find closure in whatever’s behind those perfectly panelled walls. _Maybe you can’t have one without the other,_ he thinks, _closure and digging too deep_. Adam had told him once where they keep their spare key, just a stray detail of some story from his childhood, and Kent’s grateful for it now. He grabs it from above the windowsill, unlocks the door, and lets himself in.

It’s eerily quiet, since the house is empty, and the silence weighs on Kent like a ghost. It’s such an obvious absence, without Adam there to fill the space with booming laughter and ridiculous stories and soft kisses to Kent’s temple. He aches for it, so much that when he steps into Adam’s old bedroom and finds himself facing a mirror he swears it’s Adam’s reflection staring back at him. But then he blinks, and it’s just his tired eyes and messy hair and crooked tie to keep him company.

He lays on the bed, because he’s never been here but somehow it still feels like home, and the pictures on the walls are faded but they still hold too many memories for Kent to process right now. So he stares up at the ceiling, but he sees a car on fire, a pile of shattered glass, a puddle of red in the middle of Adam’s chest. He wonders if he’ll ever see anything else. Maybe that was the last thing he ever saw, maybe he died along with Adam. He wishes it were true.

He thinks, though, that maybe it could be; because a world without Adam is his own personal hell. Maybe it’s retribution. Maybe it’s nothing personal. Either way, it’s not living. If you give a piece of your soul to another person, you have to deal with the consequence of losing it when they die. Kent knows that, he learned it the hard way. Apparently he didn't learn his lesson. Serves him right.

Kent lays like that, eyes focused on nothing, for what might be hours or might be years. He can’t move, he’s so exhausted, but he can’t sleep because he’s haunted. He hasn’t slept lately anyway, but at this point it doesn't matter because the nightmares come while he’s awake, too. There’s really no way to escape hell, as it turns out. The demons always find a way in. Or a way out, depending on how you look at it.

He wonders if Adam will be mad Kent missed his funeral. He wonders if Adam will show up to his. He wonders if Adam will be wearing black, if he’ll mourn. If he’ll remember Kent at all.

He does get up, at some point, and drag himself back out to the street to call a car to take him back to his hotel. He doesn’t know what he came looking for, but he doesn’t think he found it.

In hindsight, on the plane back to Vegas the next day, he’ll realise he was looking for Adam.


End file.
